


Like Real People Do - Dreamnotfound

by pai_n



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, dreamnotfound - Fandom
Genre: AU - not based off their real personalities, Abuse, Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Evil Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), George just wants to go home, Hurt No Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Minecraft, Minecraft but Dream’s a jerk, Non-Consensual Bondage, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Takes place INSIDE minecraft, Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Trapped in a video game, Violence, dreamnotfound, kind of, no beta we die like men, not set in real world, well maybe a little comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29112285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pai_n/pseuds/pai_n
Summary: “Why.. why me? What did I do to deserve this?”“Oh George, don’t you understand? You’re special. Only a few people get to meet me, don’t you feel lucky?”George looked up Dream, loathing and fear in his eyes.“Are you serious? You’ve trapped me inside a video game and told me I’m probably going to die, and now you’re telling me I should feel lucky? What the fuck is wrong with you?”Dream ran a gentle thumb across George’s tear soaked cheeks.“Oh darling, you’ll find out soon enough.”
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), dreamnotfound - Relationship
Comments: 46
Kudos: 347





	1. The Woods

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE HEAD THE TAGS. This story isn’t going to be feel good or fluffy, so of you’re looking for that, look somewhere else. This one is closer to my other story, Say You Love Me, so if you enjoyed that you might like this one as well. Also, keep in mind that when I address the characters, i’m talking about their Minecraft personas, NOT the real people behind them. And this is set in an AU where George doesn't do Youtube and he’s never met Dream before. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

George had a problem. A time consuming, addicting, and very blocky problem. Two months ago, a new Minecraft update came out that allowed you to play _inside_ of a Minecraft world. Two months ago, he entered Minecraft, and he hasn’t left since. At first, he was hesitant, even a little scared to try the new update. Rightfully so, too. In order to enter a Minecraft world, you had to put on an arm patch with a drug soaked into it that basically shuts down your body, so you won’t feel hunger, fatigue, or thirst in the real world. Then you step into this portal - type thing (very _expensive_ portal type thing, George might add), close your eyes, wait a few minutes, and when you open your eyes, boom. You’re surrounded by square chickens and giant spiders. There’s new settings, too - turning down the level of real world pain you felt when mobs attacked you, for example. George was a bit of a scaredy cat, so he normally had that as low as possible. The first time he went into a Minecraft world like this, he nearly passed out. Everything looked so genuine, it all felt so _real_. He could run his fingers through the grass in the morning and feel dew on them. When it rained, he could feel the raindrops drop onto his face and soak into his clothes. But most importantly, he could see _colour_. Real world disorders and disabilities don’t translate to Minecraft - people in wheelchairs could walk on their legs again, deaf people could hear, and George could _see colours._ It might not seem like a huge deal to others, but to George it was everything. That’s why he, as well as many others who found the real world disappointing and dull, quickly became addicted to going into Minecraft instead. It became like a drug. There were rehabilitation centers for people who just couldn’t stop playing. George never went to one. Why would he? He was happy, and that was all that mattered.

Lately, though, the air felt different. It was as though lightning was being carried through the wind, making George’s hair stand up, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. He checked the coding - there was nothing wrong there. He figured it was just a bug, but no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, something just felt _wrong_. When he entered the forest near his house, he felt watched, like a thousand eyes were staring at him from the treetops. But when he looked up, there was never anything there. George sighed as he was forced to enter those woods once again. His house had gotten a bad hit from a creeper, and there was a faint ringing in his ears from the explosion that he still hadn't managed to shake off. He twirled his axe in his hand, trying to find some trees that he hadn't already hacked away at. As he explored, he kept glancing around nervously, especially when the sun started to get low. A couple times, he was sure he heard a twig snap or the whisper of a voice behind him, yet when he swung around there was nothing there. He felt on edge through the whole walk, but finally he found the right type of trees (spruce - he liked how it gave his house a more old fashioned look) and after chopping a few stacks of it, he started heading home. He was so exhausted from a day of travel and physical labour that he couldn’t find it in him to be cautious - he stepped on all the twigs he had previously tried to avoid, and even whistled as he headed back to his house. Hey, he figured if some zombie was following him, it would’ve attacked him by now. And anyway, he had an axe, and he knew how to use it to do more than chop wood. He had been playing this game for years, after all. He had some tricks up his sleeve.

Despite his uncaring attitude as he walked home, he still let out a sigh of relief when he finally saw his house. He sped up and quickly got to the door, opening it and slamming it behind him with a new burst of energy. Sure, he didn’t _think_ anything was following him, but it still felt great to get into the safety of his home after walking around in the woods all night. Though, even if he had been killed, which was highly unlikely, he would’ve just respawned back in his bed with the option to quit (aka wake up in the real world) or play again. But he had all that wood on him, and he wasn’t keen on walking back through those woods to get it. With that in mind, he was definitely happy to have made it home without encountering any mobs. Which.. actually, when he thought about it, that was pretty strange. Sure, he had the game on “easy” mode so not too many mobs would spawn, but it was unusual he hadn’t run into _any_ on the way home. It was almost like they were scared of the woods too, for whatever reason. George huffed out a laugh at that. Mobs, being scared. Yeah, right. They couldn’t feel fear, or they would go running at the sight of George with his iron armour and diamond tools. What a silly thought. He turned so he was facing his window, and slowly fell into a quiet dream of raindrops falling and trees swaying in soft wind, while a quiet voice seemed to whisper his name.

_Oh Georgeeee~_

——————————————————————-

He woke up in a cold sweat, his heart racing and his mind slowly trying to catch up, pushing him out of a dark dream and back into the real world. Well, not exactly the real world, but it was close enough.

_God, what the hell was that dream?_

He remembered flashes that sent his blood running cold - a white mask soaked in blood, an insane voice screaming his name, a flash of green, then everything going black. That’s when he must’ve woken up, because he couldn’t remember anything past that. He wiped his face and with a disgusted groan felt a layer of sweat on his skin. He desperately needed a shower. Dragging his feet out of bed, he glanced outside and groaned again when he realized what time it was. The sun was high in the sky and already drifting towards the west. He had important stuff he wanted to do today, and because of some dumb dream he was running _way_ behind schedule. He rolled out of his warm, soft bed onto the cold wood floor and cursed himself for leaving his leather boots by the door. They made wonderful slippers, like soft moccasin, and he wanted nothing more than to slip them onto his freezing feet. Instead, he turned towards the shower and grabbed his usual clothes - a blue shirt with a red and white rectangle on it, dark blue pants, and of course, his glasses. His shower was quick and didn’t do much to calm his nerves, though it did help clear his head (and his skin) a little more. At the very least, when he stepped out, he felt much more ready to face the day.

He opened his front door and closed his eyes as it hit him once again just how _real_ this all was. He could hear birds chirping in the trees above him, and below him water splashed onto soft sand as the tide rolled in. The sun beat down onto the grass below him. In the distance, he could hear a few cows mooing and chickens clucking. He was reminded, too, of how much he _loved_ this place. No shady woods or dark nightmares were going to make him leave it. He had control when he was here. Whatever the problem was, he would fix it. Woods are freaking him out? Just chop all the trees down. Bad dreams? Well, they seemed to be directly related to the woods, so once that’s gone everything should be ok again. If not, he would just change the settings so nighttime never came. _He was in control_. That’s another thing that he loved about Minecraft. In the real world, so many things were up to fate. Plus, if you died, you didn’t get a second chance. You didn’t get to try again. Minecraft was safer. Minecraft did whatever he wanted it to do. 

He repeated this to himself a few times and felt himself relax a little more, then started his work for the day. Rebuild the part of the house the creeper blew up. _Check_. Tend to the garden. _Check_. Go hunt some animals. _Check_. Once he got to the bottom of the list, he realized he had worked so fast the sun was still relatively high in the sky. He scribbled something else onto the bottom of the list. _Destroy the woods._ He went inside and got his axe and a flint and steel. His plan was to burn down the majority of the trees, then chop up anything that didn’t burn. He wasn’t too worried about wasting wood; it was oak, and he already had more of that than he would probably ever use. So with a deep breath, he lit up his flint and steel and held it against the first tree he saw. He watched with dark eyes as the tree lit up, turning the sky orange and red. Already he felt a little better, like he was purging the woods of some sort of evil that lay hidden within it. He watched for a few more minutes as the fire danced in the air, jumping from tree to tree with an all-consuming hunger, then headed back home as the world began to grow dark. That night, his dreams were lit up with beautiful shades of fire and smoke, flying around him, comforting him, warming him. Yet he still heard that voice in the distance, softly calling out his name.

_Don’t be scared, George. I'm coming for you, George. Your flames fuel me. Your fear drives me. I’m here, George. **I’ve always been here.**_

When George woke up, the first thing he did was run out towards the forest, excited to see how much of it got destroyed during the night. Yet as soon as he saw the trees, he knew something had gone horribly wrong. Where there should have just been blackened stumps and smoky ashes, the forest rose before him, even darker and denser than it was before.

“...Huh? What the hell? Did it rain last night or something?”

George ran his hand along the wood of a tree next to him, and it came away dry. As he looked closer, he saw that the trees that he _knew_ had burned down, that he had _watched_ burn, were still standing tall, as though last night never even happened. With a frustrated cry, he threw his fist against the tree closest to him.

“Dammit! How hard is it to just code this stupid game correctly? _Seriously_ , Mojang? Even _I_ could do a better job than this!”

  
With a frustrated sigh, he figured the only solution, if burning didn’t work, was to cut down each tree by hand. _This was going to take a while._ He had grabbed his axe and began hacking into trees. After a few minutes of this, he figured he might as well go deeper into the woods. The trees at the surface weren’t the problem; it was the trees deep inside the woods that gave him the creeps, that seemed to watch him every time he walked through them. So he settled into an easy jog, going further and further into the woods and growing more and more uncomfortable as the woods got darker and denser. Finally, he figured he was into the deepest part of the woods, because he could barely see 2 feet in front of him and the leaves above him completely blocked out the sun. He began swinging his axe but stopped when he heard a branch behind him snap. That could _not_ have been his imagination. He held his breath, slowly turning around with his axe held high in front of him. There was nothing there. He let out a sigh of relief, then let his axe rest loosely by his hip. He started turning back around, cursing himself and his overactive imagination, when out of nowhere he was suddenly tackled by a huge, strong force. He saw a flash of green then fell face first into the dirt, letting out a frightened yelp as his arms were pinned above him and a heavy weight came down on his back.

“I finally caught you, George~”

a man’s voice whispered into his ear. It was deep, and his tone sent shivers running down George’s spine.

“Who the hell are you? Let me go! I.. I promise I won’t try to mess with the woods anymore, ok? Let me quit the game. I’ll make a new world, you’ll never see me again.”

The man chuckled as he listened to George’s pleas.

“Let you go? Now, why would I do that, when I’ve just now caught you?”

George could feel the man’s breath on the back of his neck, and it sent a million red flags off in his head. With one last desperate push, he ripped his wrists out of the man’s grip, rolled over, and kicked him hard in the chest. The man groaned, clutching his ribs, and George used the opportunity to start sprinting as hard as he could away from this lunatic. As he ran, his mind raced.

_How is there someone else here? This is a single player world! What the hell is he doing here? And his clothes… his mask… his voice.. he’s the person in my dreams. I know he is. Who the fuck is he?_

George ran until his legs gave out and he was forced to stop, leaning against a tree and wheezing as he tried to regain his breath. He had an idea, and opened up tabs by clicking a button on the watch that came with the game, equipped with an inventory, crafting table, and other things a player would normally access with a keyboard. His heart stopped as he looked at the player list. He was not alone. There, below GeorgeNotFound, was a new player.

Dream.

He heard a chuckle behind him and turned around a second too late. The masked man moved too fast, and didn’t hesitate as he shoved George roughly against the tree he had been sitting at.

“Did you _really_ think you could get away from me?” Dream said, his voice low and dangerous, and worst of all, _amused_.

“I don’t know! I don’t even know who you are! How did you get onto my world? Did you hack it? Why would you choose _my_ world to hack into?”

Dream laughed as though George had just made some sort of hilarious joke. George didn’t see what was so funny about that, and Dream’s lack of answers was starting to get on his nerves.

“Why are you laughing? That wasn’t a joke. Just answer my question already!”

Dream’s laughter died down and he looked at George with dark, fiery eyes. “Don’t ever, _ever_ think you can tell me what to do, George. You don’t know what I’m capable of. I could tie you down and spawn a hundred zombies to slowly rip you apart. I can turn up your pain settings with a snap of my fingers and let you feel what _true_ pain is. You think you’re in control, but you are so, _so_ wrong.”

George gulped.

“I’m sorry, ok? I’m just.. I’m confused. How are you able to access my settings? How are you even _here_?”

Dream released his grip on George, letting the smaller man slowly slide to the ground. He sat in front of him, green eyes constantly locked on George’s wide brown ones.

“I didn’t _enter_ your game, George. I’ve always been here. I’m like.. have you ever heard of Herobrine?”

George nervously nodded his head.

“I’m kind of like that. I’ve been a part of your world since it was created. You see, everything on this world of yours must be balanced. The sun must have the moon. The water must have the earth. And you, George.. well, you have me. In the ways you’re good, I’m equally bad. Where you’re weak, I’m strong. Do you understand?”

George thought for a second, before shaking his head.

“Why would Mojang include that? I’ve never heard of you on any forums. If what you say is true, wouldn’t everyone be talking about you? Everyone would have their own version of you, wouldn’t they?”

Dream smiled softly at George, like a mother would smile at a child trying to figure out how to tie their shoes.

“No, I’m afraid only a few people have me in their games. Only the really _special_ people. And as for why no one talks about me... well, most people who have met their version of me don’t live to tell the tale.”

“Don’t live? What do you mean? I could just close the game right now and you’d be gone.”

Dream grinned, his smile sharp and cunning, reminding George of a cat who had just caught its mouse.

“Try it, George. Try to close your game.”

George, with shaking hands, opened up his menu. A dark pit of dread grew in his stomach when he found the “quit game” option wasn’t where it was supposed to be. His breath began to speed up as he looked again, searching through every setting to find it. He knew he was panicking, but he couldn’t help it. Finally, he gave up, turning back to the masked man with terrified eyes.

“What the fuck have you done? Why can’t I leave my game?? This.. this isn’t supposed to happen. I’m supposed to be the one who controls this world. This is my game. Why can I not leave? I.. I want to leave!”

George found tears had started to run down his face, and harsh sobs began to wrack through his body as he realized he was truly trapped here now. All those weeks of not wanting to go back to the real world, now all he wanted to do was close this game and never play again. He glanced up with teary eyes, and Dream’s satisfied smirk was enough for George to start sobbing again.

_The cat has caught the mouse._

George shook as two strong arms wrapped around his body. He supposed it was meant to be comforting, but the sight of the green hoodie he was pressed into only made him sob harder. Dream continued to hold him, not letting him pull away until George had run out of tears.

“Why.. why me? What did I do to deserve this?”

“Oh George, don’t you understand? You’re _special_. Only a few people get to meet me, don’t you feel _lucky_?”

George looked up with loathing and fear in his eyes at the man in front of him.

“Are you serious? You’ve trapped me inside a video game and told me I’m probably going to die, and now you’re telling me I should feel _lucky_? What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

Dream ran a gentle thumb across George’s tear soaked cheeks.

“Oh darling, you’ll find out soon enough.”


	2. The Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George makes a burning discovery.

George was walking through the woods once more, this time followed closely by Dream, who refused to let him out of his sight. The taller man was watching his every move, which was pointless, really; George didn’t have the energy in him to struggle anymore. He was exhausted from running and crying. He could barely find the strength to put one foot in front of the other, let alone try to escape. Even if he did, where would he go? Dream was _everywhere._ Finally, when George felt like he couldn’t take one more step, he stumbled into a clearing. A waterfall flowed smoothly down into a trickling river, and next to it was a small cottage house, cozy and warm and so very inviting to George’s cold feet and aching bones. He glanced back at Dream, who smiled at him.

“Home sweet home, George!”

George looked back at the house. The last thing he wanted to do was give Dream what he wanted, and it was obvious the taller man was waiting for George to walk in. Yet George could barely stand anymore, and he knew it was pointless to be stubborn about this; one way or another, he was sure he was going to end up in that house. Might as well make it as pain free as possible. 

“Why do you live in the middle of fucking nowhere?” He complained, his feet screaming at him from the long walk they had just endured.

“Oh, I don’t. I live nowhere, and I live everywhere. I could’ve made my house 5 feet away from where we were before, but I thought it might be more fun to give you more of a challenge.”

George glared at him and was tempted to retort with something along the lines of “you are literally the worst person in existence and I hate you with every fiber of my being” but instead he just sighed and turned around. It wasn’t worth it to pick a fight, not yet. Right now, all he wanted was a good long nap. 

Dream walked ahead of him and opened the front door, beckoning him in. George begrudgingly walked forward, shooting Dream one last hate filled glare before stepping into the bright home. Immediately, warmth flooded into his skin and he let out a sigh of relief, leaning against the wall to get some weight off his tired feet. Dream pushed him on, and George groaned in annoyance when he had to start walking again. Dream kept pushing him on until they got to a bedroom. George immediately ran to it and flopped into the soft sheets, not really caring about the consequences as he soaked in as much warmth as he could from the blankets. Dream snickered but didn’t say anything, instead simply flicking off the light and crawling into bed next to the exhausted man. George froze when he felt Dream’s cold hand tracing up his back and curling into his hair. 

“What are you doing?” George muttered, trying to shift himself away from the man next to him. The hand in his hair tightened, keeping him from moving away.

“Nothing. Just go to sleep, George” Dream murmured, his voice soft and low in George’s ear. He continued running his hand through George’s hair, and though George wanted nothing more than for Dream to stop touching him, he couldn’t keep his eyes from slipping closed. He fell into a dark dream, full of whispered threats and cold fingers digging into bruised skin.

He still felt tired when he woke up the next morning. Rolling over, he was surprised to find the space beside him empty. Dream was gone. He let out a sleepy yawn and realized he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, clothes that had been thrown into dirt and were probably sweaty from his hike through the woods. _Gross._ He looked around for something to wear, and his eyes landed on a wooden wardrobe. He trudged over to it, his feet still a little sore from yesterday. It was full of green hoodies, but that was typical. In Minecraft, the clothes you’re able to craft are all based on your “skin”. That’s why George always wore the same thing: it wasn’t that he never changed, he just couldn’t make any other designs unless he manually changed his skin. But since there weren’t any rules about wearing other people’s clothes, he was able to slip on the lime green hoodie. Dream was so much taller than him that the hoodie went past his wrists (he had to roll up the sleeves) and hung almost to his knees. Dream’s black pants went far past his feet, so he had to use scissors he found in a sewing kit to cut them into shorts. 

He pocketed the scissors of course; he wasn’t about to throw away the only “weapon” he was able to find. Then he crept out of the bedroom, glancing around every corner, always ready to see Dream’s face pop out to meet him. But he never did. He ended up walking through the whole house. He started from the bedroom, walking into the living room that was perpendicular to it. A big fireplace was there, the coals still smoldering from when it was lit. He kept walking until he reached the kitchen; it didn’t take very long, it was just a small cottage. He poked his head into the fridge and found it stocked with food, mainly meat but a few vegetables and drinks as well. Then he continued wandering, looking into the bathroom and a small room that was just filled with boxes and other junk. Probably some sort of supply closet, he assumed. Finally, he got to the front door. He tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. 

Time to weigh his options. 

He could walk out right now, and he would have to just pray that Dream wasn’t out there, waiting for him. Or, he could stay in here and just wait until Dream comes back. _Yeah, as if_ . He opened the door. A cold burst of wind greeted him, and he shivered a little, though the hoodie kept him warm. He nervously glanced around, but he didn’t see the masked man anywhere. He couldn’t have been hiding; you could probably see that lime green hoodie from outer space. With a deep breath, he stepped off the front porch and onto the grass. Ok, he hasn’t died yet, that's probably a good sign. He kept walking, looking around at the space surrounding the house. There was that waterfall, still gushing away and creating pleasant white noise as George explored. He also found a small garden, which was probably where Dream was getting his vegetables from. Other than that, it was pretty much just dense forest everywhere he looked. The only thing left to do was pick a direction and start walking. He decided to head east so he could track the sun’s rising and setting as a guideline. He got to the first tree and felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. _This was it._ If he walked into those woods, he was either never going to see this place again or he’s gonna be hauled back here by a _very_ angry Dream. He figured he’d take that risk. Besides, he didn’t know the next opportunity he would get to leave. He had to do it now, or he might not get the chance again. He glanced back at the house one final time, then took his first step in the wilderness. 

***ZAP***

George flew back as his nerves lit up and his muscles seized. His ears were ringing and the air smelled strangely like burnt chicken. He looked at the hand that had entered the woods first and realized _he_ was the burnt chicken. A red hot burn mark hand down his palm, and oh _god_ did it hurt. It hurt so much that George felt as though he was on the verge of passing out, but he knew how bad it would look if Dream found him here, right by the woods, with a burn mark on his hand. He clenched his eyes, holding back tears that threatened to fall, as his hand alighted once again in pain. _That’s the shock wearing off,_ he thought, before groaning as his hand flared up even more. Dream must’ve installed some sort of electric fence along the property. For George to escape, he’d either have to find a way to turn it off or find some sort of weak spot. At the moment though, he knew his best course of action was to get back to the house and run his hand under some cold water, maybe find some sort of ointment to put on it as well. He let out a quiet whimper of pain when he tried to stand up and accidentally put pressure on his injured hand. Rushing back to the house, he threw the door open with his good hand and ran to the kitchen, quickly soaking the burn under cold water. He hissed as the pain flared up again, but relaxed a little once it began to cool down. After a few minutes , he turned off the tap and checked the bathroom’s cabinets for any sort of burn ointment. He managed to find a small tube of polysporin and coated his palm in that, then wrapped it up with a bandage he found in a medical kit. The wrapping wasn’t pretty, but he felt a whole lot better once he had covered up the wound. He looked in the mirror and realized his hair was looking a little too mad-scientist for his liking, and he quickly flattened it down with his hand. Just as he was stepping out of the bathroom, he heard the front door open and shut again with a bang. 

“Georgeeee, I’m back! Did you behave while I was gone?” Dream’s voice called out. 

George was always a terrible liar, so instead of trusting his voice he just walked out to where Dream could see him, hiding his injured hand behind his back.

“George! I missed you. Come here and give me a hug.”

George made a grossed out face.

“Are you kidding me? I’m not going to do that. You sound like one of my weirdo aunts. What next, are you going to ask for a big kiss on the cheek, too?”

George was joking, but Dream actually looked like he was considering it.

“Do you want me too?”

“NO! Gross! Ugh, just - ignore I said that, ok? I forgot you don’t have any crazy aunts. Where did you go, anyway?”

Dream proudly held up a huge bag filled with raw meat and fish. 

“I went hunting! I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note or anything, I just felt like going out and killing stuff for a while.”

 _Well, you’ve got to give him credit, at least he’s honest,_ George thought, staring into the bag in front of him.

“Come on, George. I’ll give you a house tour.”

Dream reached for George’s hand, then realized George had it behind his back the whole time they were talking. 

“Why are you standing like that, George?” Dream questioned. He tried to look at Georges back but George kept moving his body to block his view. 

“Like what?” George asked innocently.

Dream grabbed at George's hand but George quickly took a step back, evading Dream’s grasp.

“ _George.”_ Dream warned.

George took another step back, his eyes wide as he glanced around, looking for a quick escape route. 

Dream took a threatening step towards him, towering over the shorter man.

“Let me see your hand.” He growled. 

“There’s nothing to see!” George said nervously, still backing away. 

Dream let out an annoyed huff, then grabbed the front of Georges shirt, shoving him roughly onto the ground. He sat on George’s legs, pinning them under his weight. He put one hand on George's chest to keep him down, and used his other hand to rip George’s bandaged hand from underneath him. 

“Oh, what’s this now?” Dream questioned. When George didn’t answer, he pushed his thumb into the palm of George’s hand. George cried out in pain. 

“It’s a burn, ok? It’s a burn! Now please, stop!” 

Dream only pressed down harder.

“What did I say about telling me what to do?”

George was crying now, hot tears streaming down his face as he sniffled pathetically below Dream. Dream watched with dark eyes, savouring every sob that wracked the smaller man’s body. 

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! It just slipped my mind. I’m sorry, Dream!” He sobbed, trying to pull his burning hand out of Dream’s grasp. 

Dream took his thumb off George’s palm, but kept his hand firmly gripped around George’s wrist.

“Now tell me, George, _how_ did you manage to burn your hand that badly?”

He knew. Of course he knew. He just wanted to make George say it. And say it he did, in between broken sobs. 

“I.. I was outside, just to look around, I promise!” That was a lie, and they both knew it, but Dream elected to ignore it for the time being. “I was looking at the garden, then I saw the woods, and I just - I just went to go touch the tree” He sobbed again, a pitiful sound, like an injured deer staring into the face of a hungry wolf. “And then this happened.” He looked down at his bandaged hand, tears still trickling from his eyes. 

“So, you tried to escape, is what you’re telling me?” Dream said, anger lacing his words. 

“No! I didn’t - I wasn’t -”

“Don’t lie to me, George.” 

His voice was low, a threat. 

“Were you trying to escape?”

George hung his head and slowly nodded, fearing what was going to come next.

Dream smiled. 

_Always one to play with its food, the cat pounces._

“I think it’s time you and I learned a little lesson in trust.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment if you enjoyed! I really love reading all your comments <3  
> Also, feel free to leave story ideas if you have any, this story is still a WIP so it's open to any twists and turns you guys want to throw at it.
> 
> P.S I'm editing this myself and I didn't proofread this chapter so.. sorry for any typos you find lmao


	3. Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Georges deals with the consequences of his failed escape.

Every bone, every fiber, every exhaustion riddled muscle in George’s body was screaming at him to  _ run, run as fast as you can, you idiot!  _ Instead, he found himself heading straight into his own grave, following the taller man walking slowly in front of him. Dream kept glancing back to make sure George was still behind him, and every time George saw his eyes he wanted to run away more. A dark fire was burning in them, promising an evening of misery with just a single glance. George didn’t know what Dream was capable of, but he was sure he was about to find out. 

Dream stopped when they were in front of the couch. It was only a short walk, maybe 6 seconds, but to George it felt like 6 hours.

“Sit, ” He said.

It wasn’t a choice, it was a command. 

George sat.

“Good. Now, show me your hand.”

George shakily extended his hand, looking away and squeezing his eyes shut when Dream reached up to grab hold of it. But instead of pressing into it again, Dream slowly started to unravel the bandages, being careful not to touch the burn. When George looked down in surprise at Dream, who had moved to kneeling on the floor, Dream's expression was almost one of  _ fondness,  _ as if George were an injured animal he might break if he was too rough. It made him uncomfortable; he hated this man and everything he’s done to him, and he was  _ very  _ open about that, so why did Dream look at him so kindly? It didn’t make sense to George;  _ nothing  _ here made sense _.  _

Dream finally tore his eyes away from George when he got the bandage off. He twisted George’s hand, and ran his fingers gently down his sensitive palm, causing George to inhale as fear rose in his stomach. But Dream didn’t hurt him. Instead, he brought George’s wrist up to his face and began gently kissing along the edges of the burn, staring up at George as he did so. 

“Wh- what are you doing?” George gasped, averting his eyes and blushing slightly as Dream began to kiss along his finger tips. “Why are you doing that?”

“Because I want to.” was the immediate reply, offering no room for argument. Dream twisted George’s wrist in his hand and continued slowly kissing along his vein, moving up until he got to his neck. He stopped there, just barely hovering, as George craned his head to move his face away from the man below him. Dream’s breath was warm against George's cold skin, and everywhere he had touched had become alight with hot fire, making George’s skin crawl as he tried to push himself further from him. The air was thick with tension; with anticipation.

Dream suddenly stood up, making George, who was momentarily wrapped up in his own head, jump and gasp softly at the unexpected movement. Dream chuckled at his reaction, but before George could what he was doing, he swiftly reached out and put his hands on George’s shoulders. George looked at him in confusion, but he only smiled mysteriously before pushing the smaller man off the couch, causing George to let out a yelp of shock as he suddenly found himself sitting on the cold wooden floor. He glared up at Dream and knocked his hands off his shoulders, beginning to rise up again. 

“No no no, that’s not what’s happening here” Dream chuckled, shoving George back onto the floor. George frowned and tried to get up again, but Dream was much stronger than him. It really didn’t help that had gravity working against him as well. Thanks a lot, Newton. He eventually gave up, sighing impatiently as he waited to see what Dream would do.

“That was good, right? Your hand doesn’t hurt as much anymore? I drank a healing potion before this so some of it would transfer onto you. It was a lot more than what you  _ deserve,  _ after trying to escape and all. Now, all  _ you _ have to do, dear George, is kiss my hand, like I did with yours. Just one kiss, and then you can go.” he smiled, reaching his hand out to cup George’s face, waiting for a response. 

George looked up in shock at his request. He thought Dream would push him around a little, maybe lay a few punches on him, not  _ this. _

“What?! No, no way! I’m not putting my mouth anywhere near your hand. I don’t know where that thing’s been!”

“Relax” Dream said with a small smile. “I just washed my hands, they’re as clean as they’ll ever be. Anyway, George, I’m not giving you a choice here. You  _ have  _ to do it. You do realize that, right?”

Dream’s hand brushed across George’s mouth, but George stubbornly refused to open it. 

Dream sighed. 

“I guess we’re doing this the hard way, then.”

He grabbed his hand again, but he wasn’t gentle this time. He dug his nails into the burn mark, and George cried out in pain as fire spread through his hand and arm. When he did, Dream quickly shoved two of his fingers into George’s mouth, muffling his cries. 

“If you bite them, I’ll do a lot worse than just squeeze your hand,” Dream threatened. 

George looked up at him with tear filled eyes, and Dream hummed in satisfaction when George didn’t bite down on his fingers. He threaded a hand through George’s soft hair, forcing his head in place, then started moving his fingers further back into George’s throat. George had a weak gag reflex, and it quickly kicked in, but everytime it did Dream would just pause for a few seconds then continue on. He eventually got to his knuckles, and by that time George had tears in his eyes from how many times he started choking. Dream looked down at him fondly, no longer moving his hand, just keeping it in place.

“You look so beautiful when you cry.”

All George could do was glare, his mouth occupied by Dream’s fingers.

“You could’ve just kissed my hand, you know. Just a whisper of lips and it would’ve been over. But you love to be difficult, don’t you? You’re a  _ rebel.  _ You were born one. But don’t worry, George. No one can fight forever. I’ll break you soon enough, you just wait.”

Unable to snap back with a fiery retort, George just growled around Dream’s fingers; the resentment in his eyes sent the message anyway.

Finally, Dream seemed satisfied, pulling his hand away from George with one last mockingly gentle pat on the cheek. George coughed for a few seconds then rushed to stand up again, but Dream's hand in his hair kept him down.

“I never said we were done here, George.” 

George whined, already tired of whatever shit Dream was trying to pull now.

“I already said i’m sorry. And anyway, don’t you think me burning my hand was punishment enough?” George complained, still trying to stand up despite his efforts proving futile.

“Hmm. No, I don’t think I do. It’s not about you touching the tree and the consequences of that, George, It’s about the  _ intention _ behind it. You tried to escape _.  _ I can’t let that slide, not that easily.”

George didn’t think he’d been let off  _ easily  _ so far, but he decided to keep his mouth shut for the time being.

“George, you need to learn trust. You need to learn that you’re in my control, and whatever I do is because I want to keep you safe.”

“Keep me safe? Dream, I would be safe in the real world, not stuck here in a video game with you! You do realize none of this is real, right? It’s all just numbers, and code. Hell, I’m the only  _ actual  _ human here!” George exclaimed, his pent up frustration finally starting to release itself.

“Are you sure about that? Think about it, George. Who's to say  _ this  _ isn’t the real world, and the other world you  _ think  _ is real has just been created for you when you want to leave this one?”

“That’s bullshit” George spat out, but there was the faintest twinge of doubt in his voice. 

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Who's to say? It doesn’t matter in the end; either way, you’re stuck with me here for good, whether you like it or not.” 

George frowned, thinking for the first time about his situation as a whole. Even if he managed to get past the electric fence, he still wouldn’t be able to leave the game. It’s possible he could find a way to crash it, he knows people have done it before, but he had no idea how it could be done. He looked at the man in front of him as his situation sank in, and he knew that he would be crying again, if he had any tears left to cry.

“I just want to go home, Dream” he whispered, and his voice was full of regret as he thought about his family, his parents who he ignored for  _ years _ in favour of playing a  _ stupid  _ video game. If he ever got out of this, the first thing he would do is go see them. 

“Aww, no, It’s ok, George,  _ this  _ is your home now! Hey, don’t be sad. Look, it’s your favourite flower, see?”

George glanced up and saw a blue orchid appear in Dream’s hand. He sighed and looked down again. A flower wasn’t going to make him feel better, especially not one from Dream. Plus, it just reminded him of how much Dream could control in this world. He could just make things appear from thin air. He was basically in creative mode while George was stuck in hardcore. It wasn’t  _ fair _ . 

After a few tense seconds, Dream spoke up again.

“Ok… how about we put a rain check on the punishment? I’m not excusing the behaviour, but I can tell you need time to absorb everything. That sounds good, right?”

This time George perked up a little. 

“Wait, you mean… I can leave?”

Dream sighed, like just saying this was paining him. 

“Yes, you can leave. Go to the bedroom or something. But remember, if you try to escape again, the consequences will be much,  _ much  _ worse.”

Dream shot George a stern glare, and George gulped at the intentions behind it before nodding and quickly running off to the bedroom. Dream was right, George  _ did  _ need time to process everything. He’d constantly either been on the move or too exhausted to really think since he got here. If he could really look at the situation he was in, however depressing it might be, it could help him think of a way to escape. He flopped down on the soft bed and shut his eyes, thinking back to the first day he met Dream. By the time the morning came, he already had a clearer idea of what he needed to do. It wasn’t a plan, not yet. But it was  _ hope,  _ and that was really all he needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID Y'ALL HEAR DREAM'S NEW SONG?? I love it so much!! It's amazing for a first song! But back to the story, I hope you guys liked this chapter! If you were expecting smut, be patient, everything has it's time, even smut between two minecraft men. I'm just taking this story slow. Leave a comment if you have any suggestions, ideas, concerns, fun facts, I don't know, I just love reading your comments. See you in a week or so!


	4. Potions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream and George brew potions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like 99% dialouge, whoops :0 I'll try to make the next one more feely and less wordy... if that makes any sense.

Dream woke George up by slapping him _hard_ across the face. He let out a startled yelp and immediately shoved himself as far away from Dream as humanly possible, glaring at him with tired, annoyed eyes as he tried to get his bearings straight after the violent awakening.

“What the hell was that for?!” He complained, sitting up and cradling his stinging cheek in his hand. 

“Nothing, I just didn’t know how else to wake you up. I said your name, like, five times. I was starting to think you had died in your sleep or something.”

George sighed. _This guy is a fucking lunatic._

“Why did I have to get up? I was having a nice dream!” George grumbled, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes.

“Woah, you’re calling me _nice_? That’s so sweet, George!”

George huffed out an annoyed breath as Dream wheezed at his own joke. 

“Ok, for real, I had to wake you up because I need your help with something,” He confessed, looking at George expectantly.

“I’m guessing that even if I say no, you’re still going to make me help you.”

“Yep! Now come on, get out of bed, we’ve got lots to get done today!”

George groaned and rolled out of bed, and as the tiredness faded from his brain he realized he was (embarrassingly) still wearing one of Dream’s hoodies. Sure, he had it on for most of yesterday too, but they were too busy arguing for Dream to really notice. He clearly noticed now, though, smirking down at George as his eyes raked up and down his small frame.

“You look cute wearing my clothes, George. They’re so big on you,” he chuckled. 

“Shut up” George muttered, curling his arms around himself and looking down at the ground in embarrassment. A blush was quickly starting to rise on his pale cheeks. “It’s not like you gave me many choices, my own clothes were dirty.”

“These ones are gonna get dirty too if you keep looking like that,” Dream said slyly, winking at George.

George was this close… _this close.._ to introducing Dream to a little friend he liked to call “his fists.” He tried to muster that into the loathful glare he sent Dream, but Dream only smiled wider. 

“Come on. We’ve wasted enough time up here, let’s go to the kitchen.” 

He grabbed George’s arm and walked away, dragging the tired man behind him. Once they got in the kitchen he released George and the smaller man stumbled forward, losing his balance and accidentally stubbing his toe on the edge of the counter.

“FUCK, OW!! Jesus, why does that _hurt_ so much? It felt like I actually stubbed it in real life!” George yelled, hopping around on one foot. Suddenly, he paused, narrowing his eyes. “Actually... now that I think about it, this burn hurts way worse than it’s supposed to as well. What’s up with that?”

“Oh right, did I forget to tell you? The house has this kind of bubble around it that starts at the woods, it causes the pain level settings to get stuck at 100%. That means when I do this-” he flicked George in the forehead and George yelped in pain. “It hurts as much as it would in real life.”

“Wait, what?” George said, rubbing his stinging forehead. “Why the hell would you have that? Doesn’t it affect you too?”

“Well yes, but I don’t go around stubbing my toes on kitchen counters and touching electric fences, so it typically doesn’t bother me. It’s _you_ who should be worried about it.”

“Oh great, so not only can I not leave this place, but everything also hurts a million times more than it should. This doesn’t seem very fair to me, Dream.”

Dream laughed, reaching out to ruffle George’s hair before putting his hand on the back of his neck and leaning in. George could feel his breath next to his ear, and he took a sharp inhale of nervous breath.

“I don’t play fair, George. I play to _win_.” He murmured, his voice dark and low. He seemed amused as George swallowed hard, and playfully landed a kiss on his forehead before pulling away. 

George wrinkled his nose, quickly wiping off his forehead.

“Is it really winning if you take away all of your opponent's ways to fight back?” George shot back, looking at Dream defiantly. 

Dream sighed and turned around, choosing to ignore George rather than respond to him. Before George could repeat his question, a bottle of glowstone powder was thrown at him from across the kitchen. He grabbed it instinctively, looking at Dream in confusion.

“Have you ever made potions before, George?”

George frowned, perplexed. 

“No.. but why do you need to make potions? I don’t understand.”

“Of course someone who's never used potions before would say that. They’re _fun,_ George! That’s why I need them! They give you tons of epic abilities! Here, let me show you.”

George grumbled under his breath but still moved to the counter where Dream was, waiting for the overly enthusiastic man to grab the materials he needed.

“Ok, let's start off with an easy one. All you need is nether warts and blaze power. Then you mix them together, like so… and boom! A potion of strength! Isn’t that cool?”

George had zoned out, barely listening to the man’s excited ramblings, but at the word “strength” he perked up. 

“Can I try some?” He asked, trying to sound as nonchalant and innocent as possible.

Dream looked at him, clearly suspicious.

“Why? You don’t need it for anything. I was going to use it to move a boulder that the waterfall knocked down.”

“Well like you said, I’ve never tried potions before! It looks fun! Pleaseeee, Dream? I won’t do anything, I promise!”

Dream still looked hesitant, but he passed George the bottle with a heavy sigh. “Fine, since you asked _so_ nicely. You better not break your promise, George.”

“I won’t!” George said happily, reaching for the pink bottle. He held it in his hands for a few seconds, inspecting it. It looked pretty normal; he’d never seen a strength potion before but he was pretty sure it was supposed to be pink, so that was a good sign. He held it up to his lips but before he could drink it, Dream’s hand was there, holding it still.

“Here, let me.”

“I don’t need your help drinking something, Dream. I’ve done it a million times before.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never had a strength potion before. It won’t taste how you expect it to, and if you drop it, I won’t have enough bottles to make a second batch. _Let me.”_

George groaned with annoyance, reluctantly passing Dream the bottle. He smiled and grabbed it, then grasped George’s chin in his hand as he tilted the bottle back. He poured a little too fast and some of the liquid messily dripped out of George’s mouth. Dream ran his thumb across his pink lips, carefully catching any of the drink that split, his eyes dark and hungry as he watched George swallow down the potion. 

George didn’t notice Dream’s burning stare; he was too busy focusing on the taste of the drink. It didn’t seem that bad at first, similar to pink lemonade with a hint of mint or some sort of spice. But after a few seconds it started getting more and more hot, burning the inside of his mouth, and he shook his head to signal Dream to stop pouring it. He stopped, but George was forced to swallow the scorching liquid as Dream didn’t release his hand from his chin. 

“Dream, please, I need a drink or something, it hurts!” He begged as Dream finally let go, panting to try and cool down his burning mouth. He felt like he had eaten the world's hottest pepper, if it was liquefied and made 10x stronger. 

“Hey, I warned you it wouldn’t taste how you expect it to,” Dream said with an amused smile. There’s nothing you can do, you just have to wait it out.”

George sank onto the floor, covering his face in his hands as he took deep breaths, trying to lessen the pain.

Dream watched George curl in on himself, contemplating something in his head.

“Well, I suppose there is _one_ thing I could do….” 

“Please, do anything, just make it stop,” George whined, still hiding his face in his hands.

Dream sank down to where he was curled up and put a hand on his thigh, making George look up from his ball of misery. He put one hand on George’s cheek, his dark green eyes fixated on George’s brown ones.

“Anything, you say?” 

George didn’t like his tone of voice, but nodded his head anyway, desperate to get the potions fiery taste out of his mouth.

Dream’s eyes darkened as he made his decision, and he leaned in until his lips were hovering right over George’s. He snaked one hand behind his neck, holding him still, and before George could ask him what he was doing, he leaned in impossibly closer and closed the gap between them. George’s protests were muffled as Dream roughly bit his lip, making him open his mouth in a gasp of pain. He deepened the kiss and George whimpered, faintly noticing the potion’s overpowering taste slowly fading away. He unconsciously relaxed slightly more into the kiss as the pain lessened, his instincts making him lean into it despite the stifled cries of protest that were coming out of his mouth. After a few more seconds, Dream finally leaned back, licking his lips with a satisfied grin. 

“There, it’s gone.”

“Wai.. wha- DREAM!” George sputtered, his face bright red as he glared at the man in front of him. 

“What? You said I could do anything, George! You practically _begged_ for it.”

“I didn’t know you were going to do _that!_ If I had, I would’ve said no!” George protested, wiping his lips off with a grimace. 

Dream laughed, ruffling the blushing man's hair.

“You are _so_ cute, George. I would’ve done it either way, your face is just so very kissable.”

George’s face turned an even darker shade of red and he abruptly stood up, turning his head away from Dream. 

“Whatever. I’m going to my room.”

“ _Our_ room, George. Realistically, _my_ room. I’m the one who owns this house, remember?”

George ignored him and turned on his heel, stomping out of the room and silently cursing himself for blushing so easily. When he was in the hallway, he suddenly froze, realizing that in his embarrassment he completely forgot that he had just drunk a _strength_ potion. He could probably kick Dream’s ass right now if he really wanted to. But despite the power that was coursing through his bones, the thought of facing Dream again after what just happened was the absolute _last_ thing he wanted to do. Plus, he could still feel the man’s eyes on the back of his head, waiting to see if George would turn around. He was _expecting_ George to try something. He had planned for George to try and fight him. Instead of falling into that trap, George had a new idea. He would simply _wait_. He knew the recipe, all he had to do was lie low until an opportunity came where Dream wasn’t expecting it. 

He glanced back over his shoulder and his fears were proven true; Dream was staring daggers into him. He tried to act like he had just stopped to stare at a painting on the wall, nodding his head at it, probably looking very stupid in the process, then kept walking to his room without glancing back again. Dream watched him go with an amused smile, then got to work making more potions for his collection. When he was done, he absentmindedly left the ingredient list for some of them on the countertop. Later, when George came down for a glass of water late at night, he saw the paper. Curiosity got the best of him and he scanned his eyes over the potions list. _Speed, Jump Boost, Depth Strider, Poison…_ His eyes widened as an idea suddenly popped into his head. _What if I don’t try and fight him? What if I just take some sort of poison? When I die, I’ll get the “You died” screen, and then I can just click “title screen!” That’ll take me back to the real world; it always did before!_

With a newfound burst of enthusiasm, he quickly skimmed over the more dangerous potions. He finally settled on a potion of harming II, which would do 12 hearts of damage; more than enough to kill him instantly. He was going to go with poison instead, but it would kill him more slowly; he was afraid he would wake Dream up if he started crying or screaming from the pain. He didn’t know how much it would hurt. Plus poisons leave you with half a heart. A potion of harming II would be instant and painless. He skimmed over the ingredient list. It actually had quite a few steps; he had to first make a potion of poison with one nether wart and one spider eye, then he had to combine that potion of poison with a fermented spider eye, and as the final step he would combine his newly made potion with glowstone dust, making a Potion of Harming II. It took him about 30 minutes and a lot of internal suffering as he had to handle spider eyes and nether warts, but eventually he had the potion in his hands, glittering dark purple like fine wine. He took a deep breath, sitting down on the floor so Dream wouldn’t hear anything if he collapsed. _It’s now or never,_ he whispered, though no one could hear him but the potion, silently beckoning him to take a drink. He let out one last silent prayer to whatever god happened to be listening and let himself give in to the potion’s calling. A faint smile flickered across his face as his world faded, drifting further into darkness with each breath, until with one last exhale he was plunged into an endless darkness as the potion seeped into his blood, mixing purple and red into one dark symphony of death. The title screen flickered across his eyes. He was free at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoo, did you guys get the "anything, you say~?" reference? When George said that in his stream I was wheezing so hard I sounded like Dream on crack. Anyway leave a comment, I love reading them! See you next week (hopefully)!


End file.
